“Yeah, I do.” His brown gaze studies me. “Unless you’d rather I don’t come up?”

“Don’t be silly,” I say before dipping my chin in the direction of the door. He opens it for me, my arms still too full to use, then follows me up the stairs to the third floor.

Just before opening the door to my apartment, I hesitate. No one I really know has ever come inside this place except me. My cousin Aqidah has asked me to come visit a few times, but I always suggested we meet up somewhere instead.

I don’t know how I’ll feel having someone else in my living space after being alone in it for so long. But we’ve just had a long drive, and I don’t know if it’s because I’ve become used to being surrounded by other people during the past week, but I don’t particularly want to return to my typical loneliness tonight.

I open the door.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” I say as Aaron releases Molly, who starts running in circles around the living room. After removing my shoes and placing them in their usual spot on the mat, I put my bags down, then go place Maybelle on her tiny bed.

When I return to the front door, I find Aaron looking around. Suddenly, I’m trying to consider the space from an outsider’s view. It’s extremely tidy. Not a single thing is out of place.

Being back here, with the lilac scent coming from the diffuser and the cold breeze coming from the window that doesn’t close just right, brings me a sense of comfort. The cabin was fine—better than I’d expected, really—but I still had a moment of panic every time I opened my eyes in the morning. Home is better.

“It’s very nice,” Aaron says, standing in front of the door with his hands in his pockets. His gaze is wide while exploring the space, as if he wants to see all of it.

“Please, come in,” I say before I can overthink it.

“You sure?”

“Of course. Let me just feed Maybelle, and then I’m all yours.” I cringe. “Well, all there.”

While Aaron removes his shoes and his coat, I go to the tote bag I had packed for the girls and open the front pocket to grab Maybelle’s bowl.

It’s not there.

No. It can’t be.

I check again, but the pocket is empty. I close my eyes.

Breathe, Wren.

Not already. It’s too soon. Way too soon.

“What’s wrong?” Aaron asks, now crouching next to me. I don’t question how he knows something’s wrong. It’s like a talent of his, to feel this kind of things. I’ve seen it often enough.

“Nothing.” I inhale. “I just can’t find May’s bowl.”